Love and Candy Canes

“Heaven, help me,” he groans.

I giggle and sleep hard.

Seven short months later, our daughter, Dream, was born.

Take that, husband.

Because I get to spend the rest of my life in this man’s arms, I know it’s going to be amazing.

Epilogue

Emmerich

Fifteen Years Later

Outnumbered is what I am. Besides my woman, I am surrounded by our daughters. I am the only man in the family, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I have broken up my fair share of girl fights over hairbrushes, Tommy D from elementary school, and whose turn it is to do the dishes, but I have also witnessed some of the most heartwarming sister helping sister moments over the last few years. Our life hasn’t always been rainbows and sunshine, but it works for us.

Our careers are still going strong. I have been president of the company for years now. We moved into candy making about eighteen years ago and recently we moved into frozen foods like pizza and French fries. It’s been quite lucrative. Savannah is still a chef, but she’s not on TV as much as she was. We own three restaurants together. Two are in Atlantic City and the other is in Manhattan.

Our youngest, Dream, is fourteen going on forty. She is an artist and believes in Bohemian love and peace and all that shit. I don’t understand it, but I do know that I will have nothing but trouble with her and boys over the next couple of years. I really don’t know what the hell I am going to do with her.

Our middle child, Patience, lives up to her name. She is calm and patient and if I am being honest our most well-behaved child. She is eighteen and starting college in September. She is taking after her Aunt Paris. She wants to be a veterinarian and I support that wholeheartedly.

Our oldest, Era, is nineteen. She is getting married today and that I do not support. She’s too young. Too naive. She has no idea what the world is all about. Her fiancé isn’t good enough for her, but I was outvoted, not that I really got a say in the matter. The little shit didn’t even ask me for permission to marry my baby. I was no better, but that was entirely different. I married Savannah after less than a week of knowing her. Ryan and Era have been dating since eighth grade. I am sure he thought I figured it was a foregone conclusion, but it would have been nice to be asked.

I am still fuming as I put on my tuxedo. My girl picked out a hot pink vest with a black bow tie. I look like a fucking jackass, but I’d do anything for my girls. So, hot pink vest it is. My wife comes into the bedroom from the ensuite bathroom. She is just in her slip, fresh from a shower. My thoughts immediately go to dirtying her up again. Damn, even after all these years, she is still just as gorgeous as the day I met her. Every single day I thank God that she is mine. I knew in the first second of seeing her that she’d be my wife.

“What’s wrong?” she asks me, frowning.

“Nothing,” I reply hastily.

“Liar. She’ll be fine.” I shake my head. How the fuck did she know?

“She won’t be.”

“She’s a grown woman, Rickey.”

“I don’t want to talk about her right now,” I say, stalking over to her, opening my pants and freeing my hard cock as I go.

“Oh, you don’t?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I don’t.” I lift her into my arms, her legs wrap around my waist. I walk us over to the nearest wall. She doesn’t have any panties on, and my cock finds her pussy already wet for me. “Love you, Savvy,” I say just as I have always done. I wait for her response. The pause in between is tantamount to pain. Sometimes she is quick, other times she tortures me. This time she is quick about it. Thank fuck.

“Love you more,” she says breathlessly. I slam my cock into her. It’s so much deeper at this angle and she moans my name. This can be called nothing but fucking. It’s fast and filthy. It’s been twenty years and I can’t get enough of this woman. She is everything I ever dreamed of. I feel her tight pussy squeezing my cock as she comes. I fill her cunt with my seed. I set her down gently and she kisses me softly.

“What was that?” I ask. The kiss itself wasn’t weird. We kiss constantly. It was the way she did it.

“You’re a good man, Rickey. You can let her go,” she says with one of her soft hands on my cheek. Her dark hair is curly today, so I reach up and wrap a tendril around my index finger. It’s so soft. If we didn’t have somewhere to be, I’d take immense pleasure in fucking it up.